The Squirrel's Stash
by Questfan
Summary: I've been playing over at Bonanza Brand for over a year with the bi-monthly Pinecone Challenge and decided to post the collection here. Each chapter has a prompt and had to be no more than 500 words. I've tried looking at old scenes with new eyes as well as trying to imagine some varied scenes with different characters getting the focus.
1. Chapter 1

**Pinecone Challenges -The Squirrel's Stash  
**

I haven't had enough writing time to write anything lengthy, but have been playing over on Bonanza Brand with the Pinecone Challenges. Each month there is a prompt and the challenge is to write something no more than 500 words. This is the collection so far.

 **Thinking is the best way to travel**

 _The Best Way To Travel_ by Mike Pinder (Moody Blues)

Adam leaned on his elbows and watched as Joe traced across the atlas. His eyes widened as he realised that Boston was all the way at the edge of the map. His finger paused at the spot that Adam had pointed out and tears welled in his eyes. Adam had explained the scale of the map, but he wasn't sure his explanation had really sunk in.

Joe sucked in a breath and tried to control his bottom lip. "But that's … that's like … forever away! It's almost as far as …" The words dropped to a whisper.

"It's almost as far as what, Joe?"

"Nothin'!" The sulky tone to the word wasn't lost on his brother. Ben had been watching proceedings, but had said nothing. They all knew that explaining things to Little Joe was going to be the hardest part of Adam's decision to head for college once the snows had cleared. Ben stared into the fire as he considered the long trek he and his tiny young son had embarked on all those years ago.

The sound of a chair scraping on the floor shook him back to the present. Joe was running towards the stairs as tears streaked down his cheeks. Adam hesitated for a moment as he watched his brother's retreating back. As he glanced at his father, he pushed out from the table and began climbing the stairs in pursuit of his brother. By the time he reached Joe's room, he could hear the sound of deep sobbing.

"Joe?" Adam pushed the door open and quickly made his way across the room. Joe had buried his face in the pillow and was trying in vain to stifle the tears. As Adam reached to rub his back, Joe shifted away from him. He refused to give up and pulled Joe upright and onto his lap. "Joe … what did you say downstairs?" He thought he knew, but wanted his brother to confirm it.

Finally the sobs slowed and Adam held out a handkerchief for him to wipe his face. As the last of the tears dribbled down his cheeks, Joe frowned at his brother.

"I ain't never gonna see you again!"

"Of course you will. It will just be a long time before I can come back."

"Mama didn't."

Adam wrapped his arm around Joe and tried to answer.

"Your mama went to Heaven, Joe."

"You said Heaven was too far to come back."

"It is, but Boston isn't anywhere near as far away as Heaven. Besides, you can travel there with me."

"Huh?" Joe stared at him and Adam hurried on.

"My teacher once said that thinking is the best way to travel. You can imagine everything from right here in the comfort of your own bed. You can keep track on the atlas with Pa and it'll be like you are right there with me. Until I come back home again."

Joe slowly smiled as he imagined traveling in the stagecoach with Adam.


	2. Chapter 2

**Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.**

 _Me and Bobby McGee_ by Kris Kristofferson

Ben clenched his hand tightly and tried to rein in the anger that was welling up inside him. He knew he needed to stay calm if he was ever going to get his son to listen. He blew out a slow breath before turning to face his youngest boy. The boy who thought he was all done with boyhood and had made it into manhood.

"Joseph." Ben paused as he looked into his son's face. Joe was struggling to hold his temper in check and Ben had to give him credit where it was due. Not that long ago, Joe would have just launched into an argument and been shouting at him by now. It wasn't too far below the surface, judging by the tense set of his jaw, but for the moment, his son had his mouth clamped shut. Ben almost smiled as he knew how much that was costing him.

"Son, I know that you think I am being unreasonable, but …" He held up a hand as Joe began to open his mouth. "But hear me out, Son. Your brothers are both adults and get freedoms that you have not yet earned. Being an adult does not mean you can just do as you please. In fact, it very often means just the opposite. There are usually others to consider besides yourself."

Joe gripped his hands around the edge of the chair and Ben could see his knuckles were rapidly turning white. It was costing him enormously to put into practice his newly-declared ability to keep quiet and listen.

"Joseph, freedom to make your own choices comes with a price tag. And sometimes it's a very costly one. It means that a man must take responsibility when those choices go bad. Or when there is a consequence that is unforeseen." Ben waited to see if his words were sinking in. "Some men believe that freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. They value nothing so there is no cost involved."

Ben watched as his son weighed up that last comment and his hands seemed to loosen a little on the back of the chair. Joe scowled at the floor as if tossing something back and forth in his thoughts. Ben was fairly certain what that something was and he tried again to get his point across.

"That's an empty kind of freedom, Joe. And it always takes more than it gives."

"Pa … I just …" Joe felt his anger slowly dissipating as he really looked at his father's face. Where his friends had tried convincing him that his father's strict boundaries meant one thing, he was slowly beginning to see it another way.

As Adam and Hoss returned from putting up their horses for the night, they could see that the storm had blown over and Joe was nowhere to be seen.

"Is it safe in here, Pa?"

Ben smiled and nodded. "For now. Until the next time he wants his freedom!"


	3. Chapter 3

**All of us get lost in the darkness, dreamers learn to steer by the stars.**

 _The Pass_ by Rush (Neil Elwood Peart, Gary Lee Weinrib, Alex Zivojinovich)

The stars slowly wheeled overhead as he lay back in his bedroll and watched them. The inky black sky held a threat of rain and he hoped it would hold off for another few hours at least.

He had no idea how long it had been since they had crawled into the well-used blankets and tried to catch a few hours of sleep. Tired muscles ached with a deep nagging that would not leave easily and he felt every rock and stick underneath him.

The sound of Hoss snoring across the fire brought a smile to his lips. There was something vaguely comforting in it despite the fact it almost certainly meant he wouldn't get to sleep at all. Hoss could sleep through an earthquake – at least according to Little Joe.

Or cause an earthquake!

He grinned in the dark as he considered the way they bickered and traded insults, but somehow always managed to wrap an arm around each other's shoulder and find something to laugh about at the end of each day.

It had been a long three weeks on the trail as they had driven the herd the long way around to the railhead. It wasn't planned that way, but a flooded river and a washout had taken a good section of the trail with it and forced them to backtrack. It had cost them almost two full days. And the life of one of their hands when the sodden riverbank crumbled beneath his horse's hooves.

He sucked in a sharp breath and looked again at the stars overhead. All his life he had looked to the stars and seen something bigger than himself. A plan that stretched across eternity that was written across the vast expanse. It made him feel simultaneously small and yet infinitely blessed.

A cloud scudded across the face of the moon and for a few moments, the sky darkened. It was almost as if the heavens sensed his dark mood. There was always a risk in ranch life and every man who worked for them knew that. Yet it still tore at him that he had failed to bring one of them home. The darkness crowded in as he closed his eyes and tried to push away the lasting images of a drowning man clutching desperately at tree roots.

It was no use. Sleep was not going to come any time soon so he shrugged out of the bedroll and made his way over to the fire. A half-filled coffee pot sat to one side and he edged it into the coals to reheat.

It wasn't the first time he'd lost a man under his command. As he stared up at the stars again, he could hear the deep voice of his mentor and captain. Abel had tried to bring comfort the first time it had happened.

"Benjamin, all of us get lost in the darkness, dreamers learn to steer by the stars."

Look for the light. Find the hope. Come home.


	4. Chapter 4

**I never thought about love when I thought about home.**

 _The National_ by Bloodbuzz Ohio

Her dainty fingers twisted in his hand and he felt lost for words. He'd always known how to fix most anything that needed fixing, but he didn't know how to fix this. He thought things were going well with Anna agreeing to dance with him, but then maybe he really was as clueless as Sally told him he was. Her hands had sat on her hips and just in case her face didn't get her point across, her words had stung like a whole nest of bees.

"What would you know about anything, you … you oaf!"

Maybe he really didn't know much at all. Anna pulled her fingers back from his grasp and she dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, Hoss. I didn't mean to over-react like that. I'm so sorry."

A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another and another. He swallowed a gulp of air and tried to think of something to say.

"It's alright. I didn't mean to make you cry, Miss Anna. I didn't think that …"

Anna reached a hand out and laid it against his broad chest. It looked so small and fragile. Just like her really.

"Hoss … you didn't do anything wrong. I promise. Sally was just being protective of me."

Hoss chewed on his lip as he considered her words. He didn't think she needed protecting from him, but then again, maybe Sally had just read it all wrong. It wouldn't be the first time his size and clumsiness had been mistaken for something more menacing.

"I didn't mean to scare you none." He looked at his boots as his face flushed with remorse.

"You didn't."

Hoss looked up at her words and shook his head. "You sure looked scared to me."

Anna raised her fingers to touch the side of his face and she smiled at his look of concern.

"It was nothing you did. It was …" How exactly did she explain years of fear that she thought she had left behind in Utah? How did she tell a wonderful man who had been nothing but kind to her, that a momentary flash of memory had caused a flood of fear that threatened to drop her to the floor?

Hoss waited as she seemed to be weighing up her words. Anna pulled her hand back and twisted her hands together as though steeling herself to speak.

"I know I haven't been entirely forthcoming with you about myself. I was married once." She held her breath as she waited for Hoss to turn and walk away. He was an honourable man and she'd kept huge secrets from him after all. When she dared look up, he was simply waiting, silently encouraging her to go on.

"I never thought about love when I thought about home. My father arranged my marriage to a man with no idea what love is."

As the dark truth slowly came out, Anna felt the fear finally losing its grip.


	5. Chapter 5

**A world without heroes is like a world without sun, you can't look up to anyone.**

 _A World Without Heroes_ by Kiss (Lou Reed, Bob Ezrin, Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley)

The clock in the drawing room chimed the hour and he startled to realise how late it was. It had been hours since he sat down to read the letter, yet he had no recollection of the passage of time. As though the world had stopped turning.

Maybe he just wished it had.

The writing on the envelope was his father's strong, looped style, but the words within seemed to be written by another hand. Less strong. Less defined. As his eyes skimmed the words, it soon became apparent why the words were somehow diminished. His father's strong hand must have shaken as he penned the awful words to his eldest son.

Adam shifted from his seat and slowly paced across the room. His heart could not reconcile what his head knew to be true.

Hoss was gone.

His big, strong, ox of a brother was gone.

He found himself standing at the window, staring into the street below. Lamplighters had been past and done their job in the time he had sat at the desk, staring into the past. People strolled on the street below. Young lovers with their arms intertwined and bright, shiny futures before them. A horse and carriage rumbled past, carrying a family to parts unknown.

Adam twisted the flimsy curtain fabric in his hand and bowed his head in defeat. He'd never spoken the words out loud and now in the darkness of his room, he knew he never would. The educated man who was never lost for words had managed to keep a whole world of words close to his chest. He struggled to speak from the heart sometimes and had always assumed his family knew what he thought and how he felt.

"Hoss." He whispered the name into the darkness, knowing he would never again hear his name spoken back. Tears welled in his eyes and he scrubbed a hand across his face.

It was another day before Adam could bring himself to put pen to paper and reply to his father's letter. So many words competed for attention in his thoughts and they simply would not stop until he began to write them down. He'd missed the funeral and had no idea when, or even if, he would return to pay his respects at his brother's grave. The eulogy would have been spoken by others. Pa. Or maybe Joe. Adam shook his head as he tried to envisage either of them being able to stand and speak through their grief. He wondered if he could have done it, had he been there.

The words began slowly. A trickle of his heart as it leaked out its pain onto the paper. Soon it began to flow and he feared he may drown under its weight. He looked down and began to read his own words again.

A world without heroes is like a world without sun, you can't look up to anyone. I looked up to my brother in so many ways ….


	6. Chapter 6

**You don't know what you've got until it's gone.**

 _Big Yellow Taxi_ by Joani Mitchell

Joe dismounted and slung the reins over the railing. He noted that the wood had almost rotted through and he frowned as he added it to a mental checklist of the things that needed doing before they left for home. Of course, Miss Carrie would fuss and complain and he'd grumble and bicker right back and his pa would wonder just what the devil had gotten into his youngest son to be so rude to a woman. And then Miss Carrie would shake her head and purse her lips at him and he'd break into a grin and bust out laughing while his pa would be left floundering for words as he and Miss Carrie enjoyed their own private game.

It had been the same for the last day or so since his father had arrived with Hoss and that Mister Jenks, just in time to save Joe from a bullet in the head. The doc had patched them both up, then tended to Miss Carrie's hand, in amongst her grizzling and complaining that it was all better and didn't need no doctorin' no more.

Joe grinned to himself as he patted at his pocket once again. The sliver of paper of the title deed felt like it could have been the Declaration of Independence itself. It was certainly the most important piece of paper that Carrie Pickett could have ever held in her hands. Joe shook his head at the thought as he turned to look at the house. No. It was the second most important. The first would have been her marriage licence.

Joe found himself once again wondering what Amos Pickett looked like. Miss Carrie had never said anything of his physical appearance. She had only talked of his character. It was clear that he was a man to be reckoned with, having carved out their piece of paradise up here in the mountains. Of course, he'd also managed to stay happily married to the most stubborn, cantankerous woman he'd ever laid eyes on! The man deserved a sainthood.

As Joe glanced up into the piney woods that the Picketts had both loved so much, he frowned at the thought that it could have all been destroyed. Greedy men had plans that included the wholesale destruction of the forests with nary a thought to the consequences. His pa had taught them different. For every tree they cut down, they planted another. He held a hand to shade his eyes as he looked up into the hills and swallowed hard.

What was it his pa had said?

You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Miss Carrie so loved her piney woods and they were as close to paradise as she could get on this earth. Joe glanced upwards into the bluest of skies and smiled. They'd won the battle for the time being. Nobody was going to tear down paradise today.


	7. Chapter 7

**Now I think I understand how the world can overcome a man.**

 _Fiction_ by Avenged Sevenfold

Ben paced across the floor, aware that the space suddenly felt so very empty. The great room that had echoed with so much life and laughter, now stood empty and silent. Memories swirled around him as he stared at the furnishings. What had been a home now felt like a museum. A memorial to another time when his family was busy living.

Adam had left years before, seeking his own dreams. He had gone with his father's understanding and blessing, but it didn't change the dull ache his absence left behind.

The weary father scrubbed a hand across his face as he paused to consider his middle son. Hoss filled a space, not just by his physical size, but by the size of his presence. His deep wisdom and compassion for others was greatly missed and there were still days where Ben found himself turning for his son's opinion and pulling up short when he realised again that Hoss was no longer there.

"He'll be back."

The words shattered his thoughts and he turned back to see Candy standing across the room. Hoss would never be back and Ben was about to say something when his mind caught up with him. It wasn't Hoss that Candy was referring to. The young man eyed him cautiously, as if sizing up a skittish colt. They were all on edge and as he looked up again, he saw his own doubts mirrored back at him. In spite of his words to the contrary, Candy wasn't any more sure than he was.

He glanced at the clock across from him and shook his head at his own thoughts. Was it too early in the day for a drink?

Candy ran the rim of his hat through his fingers as he slowly approached. "He'll be back, Mister Cartwright. He promised you, didn't he?"

Ben nodded slowly as he recalled his son's stilted words before he finished strapping his bag closed and ran for the door. The bandages were still wrapped around his son's burned hands and he wished he could grasp hold of those hands and force him to stay. It was pointless, he knew. Joe needed to run and find a way to deal with his grief. He, of all people, understood that.

Candy watched as a father's anguish began to seep out again. The same pain and frustration they all felt at being unable to do anything to help.

"Now I think I understand how the world can overcome a man. But, Joe … he promised you and Jamie he'd be back and Joe don't break his promises."

Ben felt his fists clenching by his side and he found himself heading for the brandy sitting on the sideboard. Too early in the day, be damned! He poured a couple of glasses and held one out towards the foreman his son counted as another brother. God knew, Joe needed his brothers.

Promises.

Joe had promised Alice forever.

That was what scared him the most.


	8. Chapter 8

**Nothing but the dead and dying in my little town.**

 _My Little Town_ by Paul Simon

There ain't nothing but the dead and dying in my little town.

The words came back at him like a river in flood, washing over him and threatening to drown him. Paul dragged his fingers through his thinning hair before scrubbing a hand across his face. The bristle on his chin reminded him that it had been days since he had really stopped to take care of anything more than the most urgent needs.

It had been so many years and yet that day stuck firm in his memory, like some kind of albatross around his neck. He'd been so very young and so full of his own self-importance. His newly printed medical degree declared to the world that he was a healer. A man who could work miracles. Except there was no miracle cure for the fever that had run amok through that long-forgotten town. He'd arrived on the stage, completely unaware of the horror that awaited until they'd almost run into the quarantine blockade. It was pure chance that had brought another doctor to the tiny town that barely graced the map and he was too late. The draw of a frontier life had suddenly been slapped back into reality when he saw the makeshift hospital. A few tents had been hastily erected in an attempt to keep the dying separated from the living. The stench of death was something that he would never forget.

"Doctor? Are you okay?"

Paul glanced up to see a petite woman standing before him. He knew her name, but for the moment it totally escaped him. His eyes were bleary from lack of sleep, but his nose caught the scent of coffee in the enamel mug she thrust towards him.

"I'm fine."

A momentary chuckle escaped his lips as he looked across at the closest bunk. It was the exact same thing the young man had been saying for days as he helped tend to the sick. Of course, they were all functioning on determination and grit more than anything else. They'd been forced into helping hold the quarantine, having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Paul was eternally grateful for the trio who had helped him as their patients outnumbered them four to one.

"How's Joe?"

The young woman looked as exhausted as he felt and he smiled as he took the coffee from her hand.

"I finally convinced him he needed to sleep. He's just sleeping. He was dead on his feet. " As the words left his mouth, Paul felt fear clutch at him. It was just a turn of phrase and yet in the current moment, it was the wrong one to choose. "He'll be fine!"

Lissa turned and headed back toward the small stove where she had set more water to boil. A hand reached out towards her from one of the bunks and weakly grasped at her skirt.

"Water … " The word was barely whispered.

"It's coming," she smiled. "You'll be fine."


	9. Chapter 9

**Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.**

 _Old Man Take a Look at My Life_ by Neil Young

The smell of salt filled his lungs as the foam churned up against the prow of the ship. It glowed in the moonlight and a faint tinge of phosphorescent algae gave it a surreal air. He stared into the depths, his eyes seeing nothing of the ocean. Instead, they gazed upon a far-off land that was thousands of miles behind him.

It was well past his watch and he should have been in his bunk. Instead, his mind refused to allow his body to rest. Thoughts of home mingled with regrets and those same thoughts kept tugging him back. He felt the chill of the salt spray as the vessel shifted to port and dipped into a trough. His sea legs were still developing, unlike the seasoned sailors on board and his body pitched with the rolling deck. The sharp motion was enough to pull him back to the present and he looked up towards the crow's nest. He couldn't recall who was on watch up there, but he didn't envy the man. He didn't have any problem with heights, but the tiny wooden bucket, tied high on the mast, still seemed like a crazy idea. Maybe he really was just a landlubber after all and the sea was not for him.

As he tugged at his pea coat, lifting the collar a little higher, he wondered yet again if he had made the right choice. It had seemed so clear at the time. Adventure and new challenges beckoned him like some kind of dream. The sea had been calling him for a long time and he'd managed to drown out the siren song for years. Instead, he'd followed his father's dreams.

He'd done his level best to listen to the voice of reason. The one that told him to stay put and live the life he'd been born to. He'd tried. God knew, he'd tried!

But that voice came to him at the oddest of times and whispered in his ear that there was a whole other world he needed to explore. He'd fought it and tried to silence it with hard work. He'd played the part expected of him as a dutiful son.

And he'd nearly drowned.

He snorted at the thought as he stared at the waves crashing against the side of the ship. Drowning in the depths of the ocean was not something he feared. Suffocating under unfulfilled dreams was something else altogether.

He scrubbed a hand across his face and recalled the night he'd told his father. He'd had it all prepared.

" _Pa, before I'm an old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were."_

He'd expected a fight, but his father had already known. He'd seen the restlessness his son had tried so hard to ignore. He'd seen the faraway gaze in his boy's eyes as he scanned the horizon.

Yes, his son was a lot like him.

And like his father before him, Ben released his son to the sea.


	10. Chapter 10

**All lies and jests, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.**

 _The Boxer_ by Paul Simon

It was all lies and jests.

Still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.

I wanted to deny it, but that was the way of it with my youngest son and me. I knew he was lying to me. The sound of his voice in the darkness betrayed his words. The fact he was trying to make a joke told me more than he could possibly know. I knew that despite his words, he was anything but okay. I also knew there was nothing I could do about it.

So my son lied to me.

To protect me.

When had the shift begun from protector to protected? I had missed it somehow. For so many years my boy had needed his father and brothers to protect him and save him from himself. He was born with his mother's high spirits and wilfulness and both had caused him a measure of grief that seemed out of proportion to his seventeen years. I'd lost count of how many trips we had taken into the doctor's office over the years to have him patched up. I didn't want to think of how many other times Paul had been summonsed to us because my son could not make the trip to him.

What I wouldn't give for my friend to be here right now. To have him tell me that my boy was young and strong and as tough as an ox and twice as stubborn as a mule! My son needed Paul more than he needed me and I was a poor substitute. Still, if I could keep him talking to me, I knew that at least he was still breathing on the other side of that rock fall.

My hands were bleeding more and more as I pulled at the rocks, but I was beyond caring. I needed to reach my son. I knew my other sons would be working on the far side of me, trying frantically to reach us, but I had just one goal in mind. In the darkness, I could not see the wall that blocked us, but I could feel it. I could feel it with my hands and with my heart. It was like a dark chasm that lay between us, forcing us apart.

"Joe?"

I called again, well aware that Joe hadn't spoken for several minutes.

"I'm still here, Pa. Ain't goin' nowhere."

The words were tinged with pain and yet they sounded beautiful to my ears. I choked back a comment and kept moving rocks. As if reading my thoughts, Joe tried to comfort me again.

"I'm fine, Pa."

"Of course you are. As fine as …"

"Frog's hair."

My boy finished my thought with his brother's joke.

"I'll have you out of there in no time, Son."

Now it was my turn to lie. I might not be able to see the wall of rock, but I knew what I was up against. So did Joe.

"Sure, Pa."


	11. Chapter 11

**I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.**

 _My Back Pages_ by Bob Dylan

The leather had aged over the years and it felt smooth to the touch as he ran his hand over it. Discovering it was like running into an old friend on the street. He smiled at the analogy, as it was an unexpected delight mixed with the question of how much had changed since the last time he'd written in its pages.

Adam ran a finger lightly over the embossing that ran across the cover and he smiled again as he recalled his father's face. It was a birthday gift and had seemed so very expensive and extravagant at the time. A leather journal was a luxury for a boy and yet his father had seen fit to spend hard-earned coin on it. The busy father was not too busy to notice his son's penchant for words and had actively encouraged his boy to pursue his own writing.

His thoughts turned inward again as he recalled many nights trying to learn to read by the light of the lantern. Fortunately it had come relatively easily as the words seemed to leap off the page at him and pull him into other worlds. He had a voracious appetite for books, but they were few and far between as they had travelled west. His father had traded old ones for new ones where he could find them. Adam clearly recalled his first glimpse at an actual library with the shelves lined with books as far as he could see. It felt like he had stepped into Heaven for a moment as he spun on his heel and surveyed the room. He could easily recall the smell of leather and paper and closed his eyes to savour the memory a little more deeply.

It had been many years ago he had begun to build his own collection of books and he had felt like the richest king as he recalled building an actual shelf to store them on. Treasure meant many things to many people, but he could not imagine a greater treasure than the written word.

Adam opened his eyes and stared again at the small journal. It was like a gold nugget that had been lost and now it was found again. As far as he knew, not another person had ever read the words contained within it. He almost laughed out loud as he modified that thought. Joe probably had. The kid had been caught more than once snooping where he shouldn't be and earned his older brother's wrath.

 _I wonder what Joe would have made of this?_

Adam thumbed through the pages and rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and some of the things he had thought worthy to be recorded.

 _I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now._

"Thanks, Pa," he whispered to the empty room.

It was a gift from a man who knew him better than he knew himself. He spent the next few hours reading, remembering and finding himself again.


	12. Chapter 12

**You're walking a wire between pain and desire, and looking for love in between.**

 _Victim of Love_ by The Eagles (Don Felder, Glenn Frey, Donald Henley, John Souther)

The last few weeks had gone by in a blur. From that first glimpse of a stranger as she almost ran him down in the street to last night, it felt like mere hours had gone by. How had she ever let down her guard and been so foolish? It wasn't as if she could afford to let anyone into her closely guarded world. She had spent years building up the walls that allowed her to keep living while plastering on a smile for everyone else. She had become quite the actress.

Marie stared at her own reflection in the mirror as her hand slowly brushed down the length of her hair. Suddenly her hand froze as she considered that thought and finally allowed it to settle. Was that all this was? Whatever _this_ was. An act played out by a talented actress? Jean's mother's cruel words came back and slapped her as she stared at herself.

Gold digger!

Harlot!

Wretched woman!

The last one was certainly true. It had been wretched trying to go on after losing her beloved child to the fever. But to then lose the love and trust of her husband as well had been beyond cruel. Madame de Marigny had known exactly how to take her revenge on the beautiful young woman who had stolen her son from her.

Marie's hand dropped to her lap.

 _You're walking a wire between pain and desire, and looking for love in between._

She dared not speak that thought aloud. Pain was a given, but desire had died along with hope many years ago. So how was it that desire had been rekindled by a handsome stranger who refused to take no for an answer or be deterred by her ill-mannered words? Was she looking for love? Did her heart even know how to love anymore? Was it worthy of being loved?

Marie lifted her hand to touch her cheek as she continued to stare into the mirror. It was the most honest thing in her life as the reflection did not lie. She was beautiful. Many men had told her so, but it was her mother-in-law who had confirmed it for her. She would not have said so if it were not true, but she had managed to twist it into some kind of weapon to use against her daughter-in-law. It was as if her beauty was some kind of curse because Jean had fallen under its spell.

Was she a curse? It seemed that those she loved were destined for pain. Did she dare allow Ben Cartwright to take that risk?

A tear coursed down her cheek, soon followed by another. It wasn't fair to do that to him. He was a good man and she would not bring her curse against him too.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would tell him. Tomorrow she would go back to the life she knew where it was safe and predictable and nobody expected anything more than she was willing to give.


	13. Chapter 13

**You're dangerous because you're honest, you're dangerous because you don't know what you want.**

 _Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses_ by U2 (Adam Clayton, Dave Evans, Larry Mullen, Paul Hewson)

The heat of the day was slowly slipping behind them as a faint breeze began to blow through the dusty town. The taste of trail dust still lingered as the two friends took their first sip of lukewarm beers. It had been a long haul, driving four hundred steers the long way around to the railhead. Joe closed his eyes as he savoured the taste, ignoring the warmth of the brew. He slowly opened his eyes to see Candy smirking at him.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were thinkin' on more than just that beer."

"Could be."

Candy took another slug of his beer before nodding towards the barkeep. "If this is the best they can do here, I think we need a whiskey instead."

"Living dangerously now, are we?" Joe took another swallow before nodding in agreement.

"Well you'd be used to that, now wouldn't you?"

Joe leaned back in his chair and frowned. "And just what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well now, let's see. That pretty little filly you've been watchin' prance around town is the apple of her daddy's eye. And he don't seem too keen on havin' a two-bit, broken-down bronc buster takin' his little girl's arm and draggin' her off to a Saturday night dance."

"Now who's living dangerously?" Joe glared across the table.

"Who? Me?" Candy shrugged his shoulders as he took another drink. "I think that little gal's papa thinks you're the one who's dangerous and hanging around Ellie could be dangerous for your health, my friend."

"Me? You're dangerous! " Joe slumped back into his chair and stared across the room, as if seeing something else instead of the saloon. "Because you're honest."

"I think Ellie's father would say you're dangerous because you don't know what you want. He obviously listens to the gossips and thinks you are chasing after a new girl every week."

"He won't even give me the time of day, so how would he know anything about me?"

Candy took another slow swallow before carefully placing the glass back on the table. He observed his friend from across the table and suddenly something clicked into place. This wasn't a fling. Joe was serious about Ellie Harrison.

"You really like this girl, don't you?"

Joe looked like he was going to ignore the question before slowing nodding.

"How would you know if you haven't been allowed anywhere near her?"

The corner of Joe's mouth quirked into a smile and Candy laughed softly. "Now I think her father might just be right in declaring you a danger to his daughter!"

Joe raised his hands in a mock surrender. "I have been a perfect gentleman!"

"Sure! So how have you managed to get the sweet Miss Harrison past her guard dog father?"

"A gentleman never tells a lady's secrets. You'd know that … if you were a gentleman!"

"I think we need that whiskey, don't you?"

"Sure." Joe nodded as Candy waved over the barkeep.

"Let's live dangerously!"


	14. Chapter 14

**All my lies are always wishes.**

 _Ashes Of American Flags_ (by Wilco)

Roy leaned his chin on his hand and looked sternly at the trio of dirty boys in front of him. It took all of his self-control not to laugh or at least allow a smile to grace his face. The biggest one shuffled from one foot to the other and stared at the floor. Roy could hear the odd sniffle as Hoss tried valiantly to keep himself in check.

The one in the middle hadn't said a whole lot, either to defend himself or to offer any kind of support for the other two. As Roy looked at his torn shirt, Roy knew that Sarah Devlin would be giving her boy a good clip around the ear. The Devlins were holding their own on their small ranch, but money was hard to come by and new shirts for recalcitrant little boys took coin that should have been spent elsewhere.

The one on the end was an interesting mix of defiance and despair. Little Joe was trying his best to look contrite, but Roy knew the boy was just itching to say something. He knew that the laugh he was barely holding back wouldn't stay put for long if the boy opened his mouth. He was covered from head to toe in mud and looked like something the cat might have dragged in, but changed its mind and left outside.

Hoss was trying in vain to make eye contact with his little brother. Probably to shut him up and stop him incriminating them all, if Roy knew anything about it.

Roy decided to take pity on the older boy and he waved a hand towards him. Let him get his story out first before either of the younger boys had a chance to invent something better.

"Now, Hoss … suppose you tell me just what in the world got into you boys to think that this was a good idea?"

Hoss shuffled again and tried to shrink into the floor. Pa was gonna kill him!

"Well … it's umm … it was …" Hoss finally dared to look up and saw the sheriff's badge and quickly dropped his gaze to the floor again.

Little Joe seized the moment and jumped to his brother's defence. "It wasn't Hoss's fault! Honest! He didn't know we wasn't …"

"Wasn't what?" Roy leaned forward and waited.

Little Joe swallowed hard and Roy could have sworn he saw the boy's thoughts jumping around as he grasped for an answer.

Roy frowned as he knew that Ben had been having trouble with the boy ever since his mama's death and lying seemed to be becoming a problem. Problem was, Joe didn't seem to think it was lying. Or a problem.

"Now, son … no lyin' to a lawman!"

"All my lies are always …"

"Always, what?"

"All my lies are always … wishes. Only sometimes what I wish for don't happen the right way."

"Like whatever hair-brained plan got you all covered in mud?"

"Yessir!" Hoss groaned.


	15. Chapter 15

**If we weren't all crazy we would go insane.**

 _Changes in Latitudes, Changes by Attitudes_ by Jimmy Buffett

"Have you ever regretted it?"

Ben drew in a slow breath and considered the question. Regrets? Oh, he'd had more than his fair share, but had he ever regretted leaving Boston and making his way into the untamed wilds of the West? It had been calling him for years, but he had never imagined travelling there with a baby and no wife beside him.

For the next few minutes, Roy sat and waited. He'd known the man sitting across from him for the better part of forty years. He'd seen him raise three sons and bury a wife and one of those sons. He'd listened as the proud father had privately voiced his doubts and fears as he released his eldest son to pursue his own dreams.

They'd known each for long enough that there was nothing that was off limits in a conversation. They didn't always see eye to eye, but their conversations over the years had been honest. And robust!

"Regretted it?" Ben rubbed slowly at his chin. "No. Not regretted it." He waved a hand towards the sun sinking slowly behind the barn. The sky had turned a deep shade of crimson. "I've seen parts of the world I never expected existed the first time I set foot on a ship. But this … this land got under my skin. No, I've never regretted coming here."

Ben took another sip of his brandy and smiled. "Of course, that doesn't mean I haven't questioned my own sanity a time or two!"

Roy laughed as he noted the expression on his friend's face.

"Well, those three young'uns of yours sure could have driven any man crazy!"

Ben nodded as his eyes took on a faraway look.

"And then there's the heat when it just makes your toes curl right up inside your boots."

"Or the snow's so thick you could lose your own barn in a storm!"

"Or them Indians gettin' it in their heads to start a ruckus."

"Or some young army officer, trying to establish his control decides to clear the land of Indians."

Roy sobered as he thought on that one. They'd both seen and survived enough of those messes.

"You know, Ben … I reckon there's a little crazy in all of us."

"Well, you know what Abel always used to say?" Ben smiled again as he recalled the old captain imparting pearls of wisdom disguised as crusty barnacles.

"Nope. Just what did the old sailor used to say? Besides, 'swab that deck harder you lazy good-for-nothing!'" Roy grinned at him as he took another sip of his brandy. He'd heard all of his old friend's seafaring tales, especially the ones where he had to earn the respect of one grizzly bear of a captain if he was ever going to be allowed to court his daughter.

Ben laughed as he recalled Abel's favourite insult to all the new recruits.

"He'd say that if we weren't all crazy we would go insane."

"Sounds 'bout right!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on.**

 _Stairway to Heaven_ (by Led Zeppelin)

Adam set his coffee down on the desk and wrapped his fingers together, as if that would somehow help him find an answer. He rubbed at the callouses that had formed on his hands years ago. Those hands had roped steers, skinned rabbits and held his horse's reins as he'd galloped after bank robbers. They had moved rocks and dug holes for countless fence posts. They had held a gun and fired on rustlers and Indians. They had also held each of his newborn brothers as he had gazed at them in wonder. As Adam stared at his hands, he wondered if they would ever get to do what he really itched to do. Oh sure, he'd helped Joe redesign and rebuild that little cabin, but that wasn't enough.

From the day he'd first envisaged a homestead on the bare Ponderosa land and seen it come to life, he'd been fascinated with architecture. The way a building could rise from a pile of freshly hewn timber was like some kind of magic to a young boy. Then his father had actually taken him seriously when he had drawn plans years later to extend their home. He'd never quite been able to describe it to his brothers just how he could see the finished product in his mind well before he ever put pencil to paper. He just could.

Ben watched silently as his son chewed over his thoughts ever so thoroughly before giving voice to them. Adam had always been a serious type, even as a child. He weighed things carefully and seldom acted impulsively. No, that particular trait had been reserved for his youngest son. Many times he had wished Joseph took after his older brother a little more. Then there were the times he wondered if his eldest hadn't missed out on some of the joy that Joe took for granted as he followed his heart so easily.

He'd known this conversation was coming long before Adam had raised it. He'd seen the letters. It was hard to miss the return address of the firm in Boston. He knew that Adam's friend from college ran that firm. He also knew his son had been offered a job. Many times. His heart ached to think of any of his boys leaving the Ponderosa. He had built a dream and hoped to leave a legacy for them that would carry through to many generations. Except it clearly wasn't Adam's dream.

"Son, nothing is set in stone."

Adam raised his eyes to see his father watching him. The same rock-steady countenance he had looked to all his life for wisdom and guidance. He felt torn.

"Pa … it's not that I don't love this land. Or that I won't miss living here … but … I feel like I'm trying to walk two paths. And that's impossible."

"Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on."


	17. Chapter 17

**She tried to peel me off the pavement, tried to insinuate sometimes I am in danger of going too far.**

 _Not Nineteen Forever_ (by the Courteeners)

Joe sat with one foot up against the table and the other resting against a chair rung. The glass of whiskey still sat on the table where it had been for the last half hour. He'd wanted a cold beer when he first entered the saloon, but somehow he'd ended up here instead, nurse-maiding some poor, drunken British dandy.

The fellow had managed to give his name as William Thomas Baines, the Third, no less! Joe had been wondering just how he'd gotten into the seat he was in when Hoss finally made his way back through the saloon door. Hoss was much better at taking care of strays than he was and it was Hoss who had scraped poor William Thomas Baines, the Third, off the floor in the first place. Others were stepping around him and ignoring the man who had drunk his way into a puddle. It was apparently Joe's job to keep him in the chair while Hoss went looking for some answers.

"Hoss! Find anything on our friend here?"

Baines looked up and tried to focus on the giant who loomed over him. "Friends? I'll drink to that!" He sloshed his glass towards his lips and almost made it. The liquid dribbled down the front of his shirt and onto the chair as he mumbled something incoherent. To Joe it sounded something like he didn't have any more friends, but he couldn't be sure.

"Yep. He's got a room over at the hotel. Been there three days and it seems he's done nothin' but drink since he got here. I got his room key off the clerk so let's take him back to sleep it off."

As Joe shifted to stand up, Hoss leaned towards Baines and grasped at both hands. The drunk wobbled on his feet and both brothers moved to take a side each.

It was an almost comical affair as they wrangled the man out the door and up the street towards the hotel. All the way there, Baines rambled about the beautiful countryside in England and how the willow trees drooped into the water by the river. He stopped at one point and stared at his own reflection in the mercantile window.

"No wonder Father and Mother disowned you!" He almost spat the words at himself as Hoss and Joe dragged him onward.

"You know, the only one who really tried was Elsie." Baines' face took on a faraway look as he stumbled into the hotel foyer. "My sweet baby sister."

It was like tackling a calf for branding as the trio stumbled up the stairs and Hoss unlocked the door. As they dropped Baines onto his bed, he flung an arm over his face and sighed.

"Elsie said I drank too much. You know, she tried to peel me off the pavement." Baines hiccuped as he tried to contain a sob. "Tried to insinuate sometimes I am in danger of going too far. But another continent isn't far enough."


	18. Chapter 18

**Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself.**

 _Before you Accuse Me_ by Bo Diddley

"Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself!" The raw fury on the young man's face was as plain as day.

Roy was used to verbal abuse from drunken cowpokes as he nudged them towards the jail with the end of his rifle. There was something different about this one.

"I ain't broken no laws." The sheriff was known for his even temper and calm demeanour and it had served him well in his years in law enforcement.

"Unlike me?" The man snarled at him like some kind of rabid dog.

"Well, Morgan, you did just shoot at my deputy in the street, didn't ya?"

"Right after you shot my brother! He's dead!" The man's face contorted into a mask of rage as he screamed again.

"He was robbin' the bank!" Roy looked at the young man wondering just what was going on inside his head. Why would anybody be shocked that he shot down a bank robber who pointed his gun at the sheriff?

"After they robbed my family. You're all the same! You help them thieves because they do it all legal like."

Roy caught a glimpse of movement from behind Morgan and he barely shook his head. He could see the barrel of a rifle poking out from behind the nearest building and he didn't want any more blood on his streets.

"Now, son, I got no idea what your gripe is with the bank, but it don't justify robbin' the place."

"No, you wouldn't get it, would you?" The young man's hand wavered slightly as a look of defeat crossed his face. "Don't s'pose you've ever had to scratch a living out of the dirt and have those thieving liars take more than they ought."

Roy's hand stayed steady as he held his gun and considered the question. He could see Adam inching closer from behind the lad and he cocked his head sideways a little as if thinking.

"Nope, I ain't never worked the land. But if you've got a grievance with the bank there are ways of doin' things, son and ways of doin' things. And this ain't the right way."

"Like any of you would listen! You high and mighty town folk! You'd just take McNaughton's side 'cause he holds all the money in this town. Probably bought you off long ago."

Roy visibly bristled at the insult. He'd been called all manner of names over the years, but he'd never taken a bribe and he knew he never would.

"What say you lower that gun and tell me what's really goin' on here?"

Roy waited as Morgan seemed to deflate in front of him. He wasn't much more than a boy. He sure didn't want to see Adam forced to shoot him in the back if he refused to put down his weapon and did something stupid.

Something seemed to shift as the lawman waited patiently.

"McNaughton's a crook. He's stealing homesteaders' deeds. He's gotta pay!"

"He will. If he's guilty."


	19. Chapter 19

**Even the genius asks questions.**

 _Me Against the World_ by Tupac Shakur

Adam leaned into the chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl into his own bed. Instead, he sat where he was and watched as his brother shifted once more in his sleep and his thumb slipped out of his mouth. It had taken the better part of an hour to get Joe to be quiet and stop asking questions and Adam worried that he would awaken if he moved too soon. He had wanted to shut the whole conversation down much sooner, but he'd promised his pa and Marie that he could manage a four-year-old for a few weeks and he wasn't about to be proven wrong by said four-year-old. Of course, he had Hop Sing to help with the job, but he still felt the weight of the responsibility his father had entrusted to him.

As he stared at his brother's curls spread against the pillow, he barely resisted the urge to ruffle them with his fingertips. He clenched his fingers together and shook his head at his own thought. Waking Joe intentionally was not a good idea! His mind wandered back to the questions his brother had earlier strung together into almost one interminable sentence and he found himself frowning at the memory. He'd complained more than once to his father that Joe's curiosity was insatiable and his questions were endless. His father, with his usual wisdom, had reminded him of just how many questions he himself had asked as they had travelled from Boston towards the West and something that happened many years ago. It was a night that still stood out in his memory because a fellow traveller on the wagon train had rebuked Adam for asking too many questions. It was Inger who had leapt to his defence and told the man what she thought. She had told him that even the genius asks questions and the man had snorted at her, saying something about snot-nosed brats who didn't know when to be quiet and that he wasn't no genius. Adam smiled at the memory as Inger seemed to have an answer to that comment too.

Once again, Joe shifted in his sleep and murmured into his pillow. Adam leaned forward and waited to see what his brother would do. He didn't think he could handle any more questions. He had once joked that if a person's intelligence was directly tied to how many questions they asked, then Joe was going to be a certifiable genius.

If only he could fob off his own questions as easily as he had deflected Joe's. His brother trusted him when he said that Hoss was going to be just fine. That his arm would heal straight and strong after the special surgery that Doc Martin said he needed. That the doctor in Carson City knew exactly what he was doing.

Adam had always taken a certain pride in his own intelligence. How he wished for ignorance.


	20. Chapter 20

**Some of it's magic; some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way.**

 _He Went to Paris_ by Jimmy Buffet

Paul scrubbed a hand across his face and felt the itchy stubble. It had been at least three days since he'd had the luxury of sharpening up his razor and cleaning up his face. He hated the unclean feel, but now and again it was simply too time-consuming.

He had silently considered more than once that it was nothing short of crazy how far he was expected to travel to tend the sick and injured. The wilds of the Nevada territory had held some kind of magical allure when he had first set out from civilisation. Somehow it didn't quite fit the picture he had built up in his mind. Not that he would trade it for anything, he reminded himself as he pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up. He pushed aside the vague nagging thought of returning to where he had started out from and headed out to check on his current houseguest. The tiny building he called a clinic had only two cots in the outer room. They usually housed temporary patients, but Jake had nowhere else to go and Paul currently had no need of the bed.

Old Jake Watson looked as if he may have been born old and Paul had been unable to pry his age from the old trapper. His best guess was somewhere in his sixties, based on the man's recollections, but they weren't exactly reliable. Jake had fallen asleep the night before, telling him about the time he met the king. Of France! The mind was something that still held so many mysteries and he often had no idea which of the man's ramblings were true and which were imagined. Instead of worrying about something he couldn't fix, he'd played along with whatever Jake had to say.

"Mornin', Doc."

The good cheer in the man's voice never ceased to amaze him. He knew that Jake was dying and he knew that he'd made it clear to him too. Still, each morning he'd been greeted by the same comment and the same attitude. Alongside a deep hacking cough and a few minutes of gasping for breath. A lifetime spent living outdoors was taking its toll.

"Morning, Jake. How are you doing today?"

"Oh, just dandy. Slept like a baby!"

Paul smothered a smile as he had tried to imagine what the grizzled old face would have looked like as a baby. Before either of them could say anything further, heavy boots could be heard thumping up onto the porch. A fist pounded on the door and Paul hurried to wrench it open.

"Doc! The boss sent me to get ya. Says the baby's comin'!"

Paul frowned at the words. It was far too early for the newest Cartwright baby. He glanced back at Jake as he quickly gathered his things.

"Don't you worry 'bout me, Doc. Some of it's magic; some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way. And I ain't done livin' it today."


	21. Chapter 21

**Every rose has its thorn just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song.**

 _Every Rose Has Its Thorn_ by Poison

Joe could barely lift his chin off his chest. His head felt like a lead weight and he just knew that the dawn would bring the worst headache he'd ever known. That rotgut whiskey they served at the saloon had nothing on the pulque that somebody had pulled out of the wagon.

Why pulque? He had no idea, but somehow it reminded him of Clay and all that had slipped through his fingers. Of course, those crazy fanfic writers had brought Clay back into his life from time to time and had him be everything from a villain to Joe's saviour. He just couldn't figure out why and his fuddled brain wasn't helping.

"You okay over there?"

Joe lifted his head and tried to look at where Hoss' voice had come from.

"Sure thing, brother. I'm just great!" Joe tried to nod his head and instantly regretted it. "But you know, Hoss … every rose has its thorn … just like …"

"Every night has its dawn?" Hoss thought it was a good analogy, but apparently Joe thought otherwise, judging by the scowl on his face.

"Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song."

Joe looked up to see Adam sitting by the campfire with his guitar in his hands.

"Where'd you spring from?"

"I've been here all the time. Don't you remember?"

"Nooo … I'm sure we left home yesterday and you were still in Placerville."

Adam strummed a few chords as he shook his head. "Joe, you've had far too much to drink. How could I possibly have made it from Placerville to here in one day?"

"Stranger things have happened," Joe muttered to himself.

"Like what?" Ben frowned as he noted the state his two younger sons were in.

"Pa!" Two voices chimed together in protest.

"How can you …?" Joe stopped mid-sentence as he blinked.

"Just what is goin' on here?" Hoss had climbed to his feet and was swaying where he stood. "Pa … you weren't here a minute ago!"

Ben shook his head at Hoss' odd comment. "Don't be ridiculous, Son. I've been here all along. How else would you three manage to get anything done without me keeping track of you? It's not like you are old enough to make your own decisions without checking with me first."

"It's all right. You know the writers always get everything sorted out by the end of the hour." Adam continued to strum at his guitar and Joe caught a hint of Sweet Betsy.

How he hated that song!

"Of course they do," Ben agreed. "It wouldn't do to break continuity."

"Continuity!" Joe shouted. "What continuity? They can't keep track of my bedroom let alone who I'm dating. The same folks keep cropping up with different names and you'd think that after all this time they …"

"Joe! Wake up."

He blinked as he saw the shape of his father before him.

"Pa? Where am I?"

"At home, of course! In sunny Kansas."

"What?!"


	22. Chapter 22

_I am ... I said,_ by Neil Diamond

 **I got an emptiness deep inside and I've tried but it won't let me go.**

"You don't wanna do that." Candy held his hand out towards the man he'd once counted as a kid brother.

"What would you know about what I want to do?"

The snarl behind the words was meant to sound intimidating and yet he understood only too well where it was coming from. The scrawny kid standing in front of him was not the boy he'd known back in Montana. That boy had a ready smile and a laidback way of talking. This kid was scared to let down his guard and allow anybody to see inside.

"You forget, Griff … I know you."

"You _knew_ me. A long time ago. You don't know me! You don't know nothin'!"

"I know what it feels like to think you are alone." Candy knew only too well what it meant to find yourself alone in the world with nobody to call kin.

"I don't think I'm alone. I know I am. The only person I've got that I can rely on is me!"

"So, what? You're gonna run again? Throw away everything the Cartwrights offered you? Spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder for the law? Great plan, Griff!"

"It's better than stayin' here and tryin' to be something I'm not." Griff's hand was still twisted in his horse's reins and he refused to meet Candy's angry gaze.

"So what are you then?"

"Trouble." The word was barely more than a whisper.

Candy waited as he watched the kid's shoulders slump. Slowly, he made his way closer.

"No. You just ran into some trouble."

Griff raised his head and glared back at him.

"Is that what you call it?"

"Listen, kid, you got dealt a bum hand. No doubt about it. But every good player knows that a hand only lasts that round. Then you get another deal. You don't hold onto those bum cards for the entire game."

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Candy took another step closer and waited. "Then try and explain it to me. I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes."

Griff didn't react to the joke and Candy's smile quickly faded.

"I got an emptiness deep inside and I've tried, but it won't let me go."

"You know, the only way to get rid of an emptiness is to fill it. You've gotta put something into that hole and it won't be a hole for long. Time to start letting it go." Candy stood and waited, watching the kid to see if he would still climb up onto his horse and run or if he would listen.

It must have struck a chord because Griff slowly unwound the reins and tied them to the hitching rail instead. When he finally looked up to see Candy watching him, his eyes were slightly less cold and angry than they had been. Something else looked back at him as Candy nodded. He dared not call it hope just yet, but something was different.

"Maybe."


	23. Chapter 23

**No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes.**

 _Behind Blue Eyes,_ by Pete Townsend of The Who

Candy sat atop a fallen tree trunk with one foot stretched out in front of him and the other one resting on a rock. He bit the inside of his cheek as Griff crouched down again, took his foot in both hands and wrestled with getting his boot off as gently as possible.

"Sorry." Griff looked up as Candy sucked in a sharp breath and paused what he was doing.

"Keep going!" Candy growled through clenched teeth. The pain wasn't going to stop just because the kid stopped pulling on his foot.

Griff reluctantly finished what he had started and looked up with alarm as Candy swayed in front of him. He dropped the offending boot and stood up, grasping at his friend's forearm.

"Candy!"

The foreman brushed off his hands as if chasing away a fly.

"I'm okay."

"Sure ya are!" Griff shook his head and once again crouched down. "Now, let me get this stinkin' sock off and we can see just how bad this is."

He peeled back the sock and frowned at the blackening, swollen skin beneath it. He gently probed around the ankle bone and Candy almost shot forward off his seat.

"Well …. it's broken."

Griff's laconic way with words amused Candy on most days. This wasn't most days.

"Really?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but Griff just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I can get you a second opinion when we get you to the doc, but yeah, I'm pretty sure it's broken."

Before he could make any further remarks, Candy's face drained of colour.

"Maybe you need to sit on the ground."

"Maybe you're right."

Griff leaned forward and eased his friend down from the tree trunk and onto the ground before he fell over. Candy's face was pale and dripping beads of sweat and Griff quickly ran to grab a water canteen. He pulled off his necktie and dribbled some water into it before wiping his friend's face.

"Didn't know you were such a good nurse." Candy tried to rustle up a grin, but a tight grimace was the best he could do.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Nobody knows." The words were muttered, but Candy didn't miss them. Or the pain behind them.

The kid he'd last seen running wild in Montana was long gone. The angry young con who'd been reluctantly dragged to the Ponderosa was also gone. Well, he hoped he was. Candy just wasn't quite sure who had replaced him.

"Tell me something I don't know." Candy looked up to see Griff looking anywhere but his way. "Something to keep my mind off this damn foot while we wait for the others to come back."

It had been months and Griff had barely given away anything, either to Candy or anybody else.

"No one knows. What it's like to be the bad man." Griff hesitated as if he crossed an invisible line. "To be the sad man … behind blue eyes."

"So tell me."


	24. Chapter 24

**The morning sun when it's in your face really shows your age.**

 _Maggie May,_ by Rod Stewart

Adam took another sip of his coffee as he leaned up against the corral. He had one boot stuck on the lower rail and his elbows propped on the upper one. The horses milling around were fresh and raw and ready to be broken. There was a small black one that caught his eye and he watched as the animal moved gracefully around the horse in front of her. Her lines were lean and compact and she'd make a good horse for Joe.

His youngest brother was itching for a real horse as he stated it. A pony was simply beneath him now that Joe had proven he could hold his own on something bigger. It was a shock to come home and realise the scrawny little tyke he'd left behind had grown so much. Of course, Hoss had grown too, but he hadn't changed. Not really. That same gentle nature was still there and his belly laugh still made everybody else start laughing too.

No, it was Joe who had changed the most. The little scrapper who had clung to his neck and begged him not to leave had stood awkwardly by the stage office and waited as Adam approached him. For a brief moment, Adam wondered if the kid had forgotten who he was. Then he'd seen a tear trailing down his brother's cheek and it took all of two long strides to reach him and scoop him up into his arms. As Joe flung his arms around his long-lost brother's neck once again, he knew he was home.

It hadn't been an easy transition and more than once he'd found himself at loggerheads with the boy. Joe had changed the most while he'd been gone and it was taking some adjusting that he was no longer needed. Joe could manage so many things that Adam used to help him with and now he found his brother's offer to help insulting. Joe had even found a new insult to throw at him when their tempers flared.

Yankee granitehead!

He wasn't sure if it was the Yankee bit or the reference to his stubbornness that irked him more, but either way, the tag seemed to get under his skin and Joe knew just when to use it.

Adam felt his insides ache with the thought he'd never again see that little boy and had missed so very much.

"Are you cryin'?"

Joe's voice startled him out of his thoughts and he coughed.

"The morning sun ... when it's in your face ….

"Really shows your age! Widow Jenkins says if ya squint, ya get crowsfeet."

"Are you saying I'm old?"

Adam stared at his brother as Joe faltered, wondering if he'd crossed a line with this brother he was still trying to figure out.

Adam pivoted slowly on the spot.

"Because I can still catch you!"

Joe took a second to register the slow grin spreading across Adam's face before sprinting for the front door.

"No …. you can't!"


	25. Chapter 25

**Spoke a lot of words, I don't know if I spoke the truth.**

 _Trouble_ by Cage the Elephant

Paul poured three glasses of whiskey and handed two across to his guests before picking up the third and settling down into his chair. It was a well-worn leather wingback and one side of it bore the marks of sitting a tad too close to the fire for too long. He often found himself pulled up close to the fire with whatever medical journals he could get from colleagues back East and many a time he had fallen asleep in the chair and found the precious papers scattered on the floor the next morning. He worried a little that one day he might set the place on fire, but so far his curiosity had outweighed his caution.

" _A bit like Icarus,"_ he mused to himself. The myth was one he had first read as a child of nine and the imagery stuck with him. There were certainly times when he felt just like the poor lad who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death. The day they had just endured felt like one of those times.

He looked up at his two friends and silently raised his glass towards them. As both of them slowly echoed the gesture, each of them nodded in silent understanding of the object of the toast. He felt the heat of the brandy as it slid down his throat and didn't miss the tragic irony that it came from a bottle that Ben had gifted him for his birthday.

"Paul …" Roy's words stuck in his throat. He took another swallow of his brandy and tried again. "Paul, is Ben gonna be all right?"

The doctor rubbed his hand across his face and finally settled his hand across his jaw. He honestly didn't know the answer to that question. He hated to think that the truth might be that his friend had possibly reached his breaking point. Finally he dropped his hand to his lap and shook his head.

"I don't know. Maybe … maybe if Adam was still here … but Joe's barely functioning himself and Jamie … well he's still just a boy."

Reverend Davis Carter had only been in Virginia City for little more than a year, but he had found a kindred spirit in the three-times widowed rancher. His own wife had died two years earlier, leaving him with twins to raise on his own.

It was Ben who had sat and listened as he poured out his deepest unspoken grief and Ben who had assured him that he could keep on living life to the full. The man had introduced his son and daughter to riding ponies and he had almost been forgiven for dragging them to Nevada.

"Reverend, you spoke with Ben after the funeral." Paul's question was unspoken, but it was there.

"Well … I spoke a lot of words … I don't know if I spoke the truth." He looked up and frowned. "How do you bury your own child and survive?


	26. Chapter 26

**Don't cross him, don't boss him. He's wild in his sorrow. He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain.**

 _The Red Headed Stranger,_ by Willie Nelson.

It had happened so many times lately. A trail of seemingly pointless fistfights followed wherever his son set foot these past few weeks and Ben worried that it would soon progress to something more serious.

Or deadly.

It wasn't like the random saddle tramps or miners in town owed his son any favours and would pull any punches just because his son was … whatever he was!

Ben wanted to say the word grieving, but he held back. He didn't want to give rein to that thought just yet.

The ongoing rift between Little Joe and his best friend since they attended their first day of school together was tearing his son apart. It had taken days to figure out just what was driving his son's behaviour when he was up one minute and down in a foul mood the next. Unfortunately, he'd been too late to stop Joe's self-destructive behaviour before he'd damaged that bond with Mitch.

Ben watched as the dust slowly settled where Joe had just been. Hoss stood with his hands anchored on his hips and blood dribbling down his lip. It wouldn't have taken much for him to pummel his smaller brother into the ground and once again Ben was grateful for his middle son's calm temperament. It wasn't as if Joseph wouldn't have deserved it.

"What are we gonna do about him, Pa?"

Hoss took a swallow from the canteen his father handed him and spat the bloodied water onto the ground. He swiped his hand across his lip and frowned at the blood that came away. Joe had one mean left hook! No, at the moment, Joe was just plain mean.

"Don't cross him." Ben tried to smile at Hoss. It didn't take much these days. "Don't boss him."

"Pa, I don't boss him, but he's just …"

"He's wild in his sorrow." Ben turned once again to look where his son had so recklessly ridden off to at a full gallop.

"He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain."

Ben nodded as Hoss began to gather up the tools and place them in the back of the buckboard.

"This can't go on."

It was well after nine o'clock before Ben got to see his youngest son again. This time, as Joe nudged the front door open, Ben stared in horror at the state Joe was in. His shirt was torn into strips and his face looked like it had gone three rounds with a bull. He stumbled to his feet as Joe hung his hat on the rack and began to unbuckle his gunbelt.

"Joseph! Son … this has to stop!"

Joe held up a hand and nodded. "It's alright, Pa. I'm done fightin'."

Ben stared as Joe crossed the room and held out a hand towards Hoss. "I'm sorry, Hoss. I had no business hittin' you."

Hoss reached for his brother's outstretched hand and gripped onto it. "What do ya mean, you're done fightin'?"

"I saw Mitch today. We … we sorted things."


	27. Chapter 27

This was a two-parter challenge for Valentine's Day.

 **Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control.**

 **Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start.**

 _A Matter of Trust,_ by Billy Joel.

Ben leaned back against the wall as he slowly ran the fingertips of one hand over the lock. He stared at the elegantly carved wooden chest and felt his heart rate lift at the sight of it. It had been so many years since he had even opened the chest, let alone really savoured its contents. For so long it had been covered over with a dark oilcloth and hidden away, as if he could somehow bury the pain by pushing it out of sight. Marie's beautiful things were both a treasure and a blight on his already bruised spirit. He couldn't bear to look on her tiny cream gloves or her lace fan without seeing her beautiful face in his mind's eye. The remembered sound of her laughter as she teased him with the fan was both a painful memory and a cruel reminder of all that had been stolen from him. He couldn't be sure how long it had taken him before he had finally ventured into the attic and allowed himself to open the chest for the first time. That afternoon was so many years behind him and yet it burned so brightly in his memory that it could well have been last week.

Slowly, reverently, he opened the lock and lifted the lid. He knew exactly what was in there and he found himself lifting things aside to reach his target. Finally his fingers touched the cool leather of his wife's journal and he lifted it out into the light. The lantern created warm shadows against the wall and he turned the wick a little higher as he settled back once more. His wife, for all her outward confidence, had been a very private person. He knew she kept journals, but never once had she shared a word with him while she was alive. It had taken days of staring at this one on his bedside table to convince himself it wasn't a betrayal to read it.

In actual fact, it was a matter of trust.

Marie had been big on trust. It wasn't hard to see why when she had trusted and that trust had been abused in the worst way. The fact she had chosen to trust him with her heart and her future was something he had not fully grasped at the time. But after reading her journals, well his heart had overflowed once again with the enormity and rarity of her gift.

Ben flipped open to a well-worn page and smiled at his wife's delicate handwriting. The fact the page showed the evidence of tears was not lost on him.

 _Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control. I could not bear to find myself caught by such "love" ever again. How do I know this man will love me for me? I see it in his eyes, but is that just my foolish heart seeing what I wish to see?_

Ben looked again at his wife's heartfelt words. She had been so badly abused and yet something in her still yearned to be loved. And to love. He could not imagine a world without his beloved Marie or the son she had gifted him with. He turned back to the journal once more and frowned at the next line.

 _Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start._

He disagreed.

True love was never a lie. Passion was not the same thing as love. His wife was certainly full of passion! A spitfire, some would have called her. He laughed softly as he recalled the night she had thrown a book at his head. It had missed as she was off balance due to her advanced stage of pregnancy, but the anger behind it was not lost on him. Life had certainly never been dull with Marie around.

He was unaware as somebody slowly approached until he saw boots right in front of him.

"Pa … are you alright?"

Ben looked up to see Marie's boy eyeing him while trying not to intrude.

"I'm fine, Joseph."

Ben smiled to himself as he heard his son's standard line come out of his own mouth.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Joe looked uncomfortable as he glanced at his mother's trunk. It wasn't like he hadn't spent his own time alone in the attic, going through the contents and trying to attach memories to each item. He slowly settled himself next to his father and leaned back into the solid wood of the wall.

"I was just …" Ben paused as he tried to find the words. What exactly was he doing?

"Enjoying being with Mama?"

Ben looked across at his son and watched as the shadows from the lantern danced across his face. The eyes that watched him so intently were so like his mother's. Marie didn't miss a thing and neither did her boy, apparently.

He couldn't bring himself to answer so he simply nodded.

"She'd want you to be happy. You know that, don't you?"

When Ben still didn't answer, Joe prodded a little further.

"Marrying again isn't a betrayal of her. She loved you and she'd want you to be happy."

"You've read these, haven't you?" Ben held up the journal in his hand as Joe slowly nodded. His son was well past the age where he needed to ask permission, but it still felt a little strange that his son had read of his mother's doubts about his father's ability to love her back.

"She loved you."

It was such a simple statement that covered so very much territory.

"And you? How do you feel about your old father taking another wife?"

Joe reached a hand towards his father's forearm and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Well … she won't be Mama … but I'd say Sarah makes you happy … and that's good enough for me."


	28. Chapter 28

**Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born.**

 _Trouble_ by S. Ray LaMontagne

Hoss stared at the scruffy young face before him. The barest hint of chin whiskers reminded him of how desperate Little Joe was to see something sprout on his own bare chin. The kid couldn't be no more than seventeen yet his eyes looked as if he'd seen a hundred years pass him by.

The gun pointed straight at his gut wobbled a little and Hoss tried not to move. The kid looked like he might just pull that trigger at any moment and he didn't fancy having a hole through his new shirt. Hop Sing would surely pitch a fit at how much blood he'd have to get out and … Hoss suddenly pulled himself up short. He figured his thoughts were taking such a ridiculous turn as he compared the scared kid before him to his own little brother. Only last week, Joe had torn a sleeve off one of his shirts trying to prove he was ready to bust a cantankerous bronc and Hop Sing had been very indignant about having to sew it back on. Again!

Finally, he decided to try a different tack. The kid's feet shuffled back as Hoss cleared his throat. He wasn't half as sure as he'd sounded only a few minutes earlier when he'd threatened to blow Hoss' head off.

"Now, it seems to me you don't really wanna take a shot at me. You just need somethin' that you think I've got."

The kid licked at dry lips and tried to hold his hand steady. He'd watched as the giant man had walked out of the bank and stuffed something into his saddlebags and he'd figured he had an easy target when the man left town alone. Of course, Sophie had tried to argue with him, but what did a dumb girl know? That was why he'd stashed her behind the saloon and raced away, hoping to cut off one of the Cartwrights before he reached home.

"You got money in that saddlebag." The kid waved his gun towards the bag and Hoss reached back behind him and pointed at it.

"Money? Nahh, I just got me some paperwork in here for my pa and a few other bits of things that ain't much use to you. Here … let me show ya."

"Hold it!"

Hoss paused as the gun waved closer to his face.

"You do know that shootin' a man'll get you strung up? You sure you want that kinda trouble?"

The kid snorted at him. "Trouble? Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born!"

"Hmmm. Well it looks ta me like a good feed and maybe a job might help fix some o' that trouble."

The kid shook his head in disbelief. "I'm trying to rob you and you talk about a job!"

Hoss shrugged and slowly nodded. "You look a mite young to be robbin' folks for a livin'. And you remind me of my kid brother. Now Trouble's his middle name!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Sometimes you tell the day by the bottle you drink, and times when you're alone all you do is think.**

 _Wanted Dead or Alive_ by Bon Jovi

Joe leaned against the doorframe and watched as his friend downed another whiskey. The bottle stood off to the side, but he could see that it was well past the half way mark. It wasn't doing anybody any good to drink as hard as he was, but Joe knew only too well that he was fighting an unwinnable battle. Nothing would ease the man's broken heart and nobody could bring back the young wife he adored.

As each dark day dragged by and there was no sign of Jesse's misery lifting, Joe had trailed along behind him and tried to keep the damage to a minimum. From sunup to sundown, Jesse worked. From sundown until the early hours of the morning, he drank. It made mornings a misery for another reason altogether, but Joe knew that it was still better than facing the real misery of an empty bed and an empty crib.

A world without his beautiful Christy was something Jesse simply couldn't face yet. If it hadn't been for his father, Joe truly feared what his friend could have done. Harry Dawes had been injured in the same accident that had taken the life of his daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild. The horses had spooked and the wagon had tipped over, trapping Harry underneath it while Christy had been thrown clear. Death had been instantaneous according to Doc Martin. She would have had no idea what hit her.

Joe made his way across to the bar and after snagging a beer, he headed for the chair across from his friend. He didn't expect a welcome, but Jesse barely reacted as he slid into his seat.

There were no words that hadn't been said already. What was it the preacher said? Think on the good times and you'll see your family again in Heaven. Joe sipped at his beer as he recalled how many times he'd been told that when he had cried for his mother over the years. He didn't have many memories of her and given that everybody said patience wasn't his strong suit, why did everybody think that made anything better? Joe took another sip as he watched Jesse over the rim of his glass. People sure did say some dumb things to folks who were grieving. Jesse looked like a shadow of himself and it was no wonder. He and Christy had been together for over two years and Joe had teased his friend about how smitten he was by the petite redhead. As he took another sip of his beer, he wondered for a moment how he would deal with losing a beloved wife and unborn child.

Jesse looked up as if noticing Joe for the first time. He nodded towards the bottle of whiskey.

"Sometimes you tell the day by the bottle that you drink." He frowned as he poured another and downed it in one gulp. "And times when you're alone … all you do is think. I don't wanna be alone, Joe!"


	30. Chapter 30

**I've got a peaceful, easy feeling, and I know you won't let me down.**

 _Peaceful, Easy Feeling_ by The Eagles

Joe felt his hands slipping on the rocks as he tried desperately to shove them out of the way. It seemed that for every rock he hefted aside, another two would be there when he turned back around. It was a Herculean job and he simply wasn't built for it. Now, Hoss – Hoss could move a mountain. If only he wasn't buried under the mountain!

The day had started out so promising as they made their way into town. Hoss drove the empty wagon and Joe fairly bounced with excitement on the seat beside him. It was the first day the twelve-year-old had been allowed off the Ponderosa in nearly three weeks following some infraction he had already forgotten about. His father hadn't forgotten and had given a stern warning to the boy as he climbed in beside Hoss. Joe had looked suitably contrite as he nodded his head and agreed with the instructions.

It was too pretty a day for his mood to stay dark for long and he soon began talking up a storm about all the things he and Mitch planned for the Summer. Hoss nodded and laughed and poked his brother in the ribs as a reminder that Pa was still watching, even when they were out of his sight. Joe's face fell for a moment before he brightened again and went off on another wild tangent. Hoss enjoyed listening to his brother's enthusiasm and was content to hear anything Joe had to say. His brother sure did have some wild thoughts!

The trip into town had been without incident, much to Hoss' relief and they soon had the wagon loaded and heading home. It would have finished without incident too except for that cat that came out of nowhere. Neither of them spotted it as they were too busy trying to figure out Joe's newest plan. The horses may not have seen it, but they smelled it and panicked. Hoss found the reins wrapped taut around his fingers as the panic-stricken horses bolted. The puma sprang from the rocks and latched onto the closest horse.

It happened so fast that Joe had no idea how they were suddenly turned upside down and the world had landed on their heads. The horses' hitching had broken away and there was no sign of the horses anywhere when Joe finally opened his eyes. The wagon had careened into the rocks and pulled a pile of rubble down on top of it. All he could see of Hoss was a boot and the tips of his fingers from under the edge of the upturned wagon.

He began to frantically tug at the pile of rocks and fling them aside, all the while calling his brother's name.

"Joe?"

It sounded all wrong.

"Joe … you gotta go … for help."

"I ain't leavin' you! You're hurt!"

"Joe … I've got a peaceful …. easy feeling. You've gotta go … and I know you won't let me down … little brother."


	31. Chapter 31

**Here's to the ones who dream foolish as they may seem.**

 _Fools Who Dream_ by Justin Hurwitz, Benj Pasek, Justin Noble Paul

Ben heard the creak of the floorboard and smiled to himself. It didn't matter how many times he had re-nailed it or waxed it or even tried pine sap between them, that one board would not be tamed when they built the house. He did not have enough hewn timber to waste a perfectly good piece replacing it. It had annoyed Adam, no end. His perfectionist son was irked that a simple thing such as a floorboard could get the better of him and had even tried to convince him to pull it up and replace it several times over the years. His clever, imaginative son who had helped design and then build the place they all called home.

Home.

It was such a small word that covered so very much.

As Ben heard the floorboard creak a second time, he pushed himself up in the bed and reached down for his slippers. He didn't need to turn up the wick to reach for his robe where it was draped across the back of a chair.

That untamed floorboard had served as a tool to teach his young son a life lesson. He had stood Adam out in the hallway the night before he left for college and pointed to it.

"Son, no matter how well you plan and how hard you work, there are some things that are out of your control. This land is only ever partially tamed and parts of it are like that floorboard. They will only bend so far and no more. Adam, you are not in control of everything."

Ben nudged at his son's elbow. "Besides, that board has served to alert me every time one of you three is out of bed and not where you should be!"

Adam had grinned at him as his father had shared the secret. He thought he'd been discrete and yet he'd been betrayed by a floorboard!

For the second time, Ben stood in the hallway and stared at his eldest son's door, knowing that tonight would be the last time he slept there. He'd given Adam his blessing to go to college, knowing full well his son would return. This time, he had no such assurance.

Adam. His clever, imaginative son who needed to stretch his wings. Who needed to reach for his own dreams. He'd seen it coming, but tried to deny it. So many years ago, he'd reached for his own dreams and been told he was a fool.

Ben raised his hand to his forehead in a quiet salute to his son.

"Here's to the ones who dream … foolish as they may seem."

Muffled sounds floated up from the room below and Ben silently made his way to the stairs. His sons sat in a row along the fireplace, each with a glass of good brandy.

Joe looked up and grinned at him. "Hey, Pa. You sneaking out?"

"Yeah, Pa, you should fix that floorboard!" Hoss laughed.

Adam just raised his glass.


	32. Chapter 32

**Memories are nothing more than ghosts that we let in. Don't be afraid of them.  
**

 _When We Were Us_ by Bon Jovi.

"How come you never told me?"

"Told you what?" Candy took another long sip of the lukewarm beer and tried to swallow it. The liquid stuck in his throat as he tried to ignore Joe's steady gaze.

"I thought we were past this. That we were friends." Joe tried to keep a neutral expression, but Candy didn't miss the slight edge of disappointment in his voice.

"We were."

At least he hoped that was still true. If he weren't parked in the corner with a table hemming him in, he would have already dropped the glass on the table and left. Joe deserved answers, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bear the thought that any respect Joe had for him would evaporate in an instant.

"And what? We aren't anymore?"

Candy took another gulp of his beer and refused to make eye contact.

"Candy …" Joe rubbed at his jaw as he wondered how to shift things. Candy's stubbornness was legendary, but then again, so was his! He snorted to himself as he lifted his glass for another drink. The beer was stale and warm, but it was helping to wash out the trail dust he'd been eating for three days now. Three long days he had spent tracking down his wayward friend after he'd just up and left.

"Joe, you need to go home. Nothing for you to do here."

 _Except lose all respect for me._

"That's not how I see it."

Candy was beginning to lose the game. He pushed out from the table and stalked towards the saloon door. Joe was only a step or two behind him and Candy felt his fists clenching by his sides. He gripped one hand in the other as he shoved at the swing door with his shoulder. Joe held up an arm to deflect the door from swinging back on him as he watched Candy cross the dusty street.

He stood on the dilapidated boardwalk and watched as his friend walked away from him. He'd allowed Candy to walk away once before and he'd be damned if he was going to let it happen again. Especially since he didn't know why.

By the time Joe caught up with him, Candy looked like he was going to throw up. He was hunched over with one hand steadying himself against the back wall of the mercantile.

"Candy … what's going on?" Joe stopped a few feet short of his friend, half expecting him to take a swing. By the time he finally looked up, his eyes betrayed him.

"Memories."

Joe edged closer and waited.

"You know, Sarge used to say that memories are nothing more than ghosts that we let in." He groaned, as if in pain. "Don't be afraid of them, he'd say."

Candy peeled himself off the wall and straightened up. The pain on his face was as clear as day.

"Sarge dragged me up after my father died."

"Tell me what happened."

* * *

Well, that's the end of the pinecone, but I think this one still has something to say, so keep an eye out as this might become something more. I hope!


	33. Chapter 33

**The world is full of zanies and fools who don't believe in sensible rules.**

 _Impossible_ by Rogers and Hammerstein _  
_

He had to give it to the kid – he sure had spunk! He grinned at the mop of unruly curls seated in front of him as he steered his horse back down the road to Virginia City. It was a good thing the circus caravan travelled so slowly and they weren't too far out of town before the kid had accidentally revealed himself.

Morry barely held back a chuckle as he recalled that noise that had given away their young stowaway. If he hadn't sneezed from the trail dust kicking up under the canvas they could have made it to Carson City before they found him. As it was, he would need the better part of two days to take the kid home and return. He just hoped the law gave him a chance to speak first and explain when he turned up with the youngest Cartwright. He'd seen already that his father had some clout in the area and had sent men to help with the hoisting of the big top when they arrived in town. He could imagine the man had a posse out looking for his kid and he didn't want to be mistaken for some kind of kidnapper or worse.

"So, kid … what are you gonna say to your pa when you see him?"

He felt the boy's body stiffen in the saddle and he chewed at his lip instead of commenting. The boy might well be due a tanning and he obviously knew it.

"I'm … I'm gonna tell him …. I …"

The boy's shoulders slumped and his head dropped back down as if all defiance had seeped away. It wasn't the same kid he'd hauled out from under the canvas in the back of his wagon only that morning.

"He's gonna kill me!"

"Nah. I reckon your pa's gonna be real relieved to see you. He loves ya and he woulda been real worried when you disappeared."

"You don't know nothin'! Pa's always mad at me lately. He says I keep breakin' the rules and not listenin' and lettin' him down."

Morry could feel the kid's despair without even seeing his face. "He said all that?"

"Well, the first bit … but I know I just keep lettin' him down, but I can't help it!"

"Why not?"

Joe's shoulders shrugged as he slumped forward again.

"I try! I really do! But I ain't as smart as Adam or as strong as Hoss and I sure can't cook like Hop Sing. Hoss says I make the worst coffee ever!"

"And?"

"And I start off doin' my chores or whatever I'm s'posed to be doin' and then …"

Morry smiled at the memories that rolled through his thoughts. "And then you see a fishing spot where the trout are just jumping and …."

"Exactly! Miss Jones says I daydream too much."

"Kid, the world is full of zanies and fools who don't believe in sensible rules. One day you'll find where you fit."


	34. Chapter 34

**Even now I still remember and the feeling's still the same**

 _Even Now_ by Barry Manilow

Ben smiled as he watched his youngest son pacing the floor. He remembered only too well the sense of anticipation merged with a deep tinge of fear. Three times he had dealt with it and each time he had been equally as useless at releasing it. Pacing may have taken the edge off, but not by much. It had been four years since Joe had raced after him and told him that he was going to be a grandfather. The memory of the look on his son's face still made him smile, only to quickly be swallowed up by a sob of pain. So soon after that day of elation had come the worst day of Joe's life. Ben still occasionally awoke in a sweat as he dreamed of that awful day and its aftermath. For weeks he had feared he would lose his boy too as Joe seemed to have lost the will to live.

But then slowly, softly, his son had come back to him. Not quite the same as he had been before, but close enough. Joe's ready laugh and quick wit had been tempered by a desperate sadness that had stolen something from him that would never return.

Then Maddison arrived in town.

She turned up one day on the stagecoach and never left. Ben was never quite sure who had been the one to instigate the conversation, but one Spring day, Ben noticed his boy had a new air about him. Something that had withered and died had been brought to life again. Joe began to walk with purpose again and his sombre demeanour began to melt away. Something of his son's spark had been restored. For that reason alone, Ben loved the girl. When the two had been married and some months later declared they would be parents, he had watched his boy like a hawk. Joe's nature was protective of those he loved, but there was a new fierceness in the way he kept watch this time. He never voiced it to anybody, but Ben knew. His boy was watching and waiting in fear that it would all be snatched away again.

Candy poured a glass of brandy and walked over to catch Joe in mid pace.

"Drink this." He thrust the glass towards Joe, who waved it away.

"I don't need that!"

"I think you do. You're wound as tight as a rattler."

Joe resumed his pacing and Candy kept pace alongside him.

"You need something to bring you down a notch or you're gonna drop that poor kid on its head when the doc hands it to you! Now drink this."

Ben shrugged at him and smiled. "Better do as he says."

Joe stopped and stared at his father. "Is this what it felt like with us?"

"Even now I still remember and the feeling's still the same. Complete helplessness!"

Before Joe could answer, a lusty cry drifted down from above. They laughed as Joe bolted for the stairs.


	35. Chapter 35

**Many are the hearts that are weary tonight.**

 _Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground_ by Walter Kittredge

He didn't believe in bad luck in the same way that Hop Sing did, but his cook's anguished words still echoed in his ears. The little man had exhausted himself helping to drag bodies up the muddied embankment and laying them out in rows with a nod of respect before turning for the next one. There was no guarantee that the people were even local as the floodwaters had hit the town without warning.

Ben rubbed at the deep ache in his shoulder as he sipped at the hot mug of coffee someone had shoved into his hands. He was beyond exhausted and the coffee was barely making a dent, but nothing would remove the ache that had settled in his chest. He heard footsteps behind him and he knew without turning that it was Hoss. Nobody walked quite the same way as his middle son.

"Sheriff's identified the last one, Pa."

Ben reached for another mug to pour his son a cup of coffee. He knew what was coming, but had prayed fervently that he was wrong. It didn't matter who that child was - it was a tragedy, but he'd helped Martha Morris search for her brood hours earlier and there was still one not accounted for.

"The young'un was Sally Morris."

Ben heard the despair in his son's voice and read the distress on his face as he grasped at Hoss' arm.

"We were too slow, Pa!"

"Hoss, we could not possibly save them all."

Hoss hung his head as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. There were too many bodies that had now been moved over to the tiny schoolhouse for families to identify and he knew what his father said was true. Still, it didn't do anything to shift the massive lump of guilt that clawed at his gut. Ogden would never look the same again. It may never recover from the flash flood that had claimed at least twelve of its citizens that they knew of and wiped out many of the smaller buildings.

"Where's Joe'n Adam?"

Ben shifted and pushed himself to his feet, suddenly needing to find them. It was an irrational thought, but it had been too long since he'd seen his boys. Adam had been up by the railhead, trying to help drive out the corralled herds away from the rushing water while Joe had been ….. Ben felt his breath hitch as he suddenly realised he had no idea where Joe had been for the last few hours.

"Pa?" Hoss was on his feet as he saw the change on his father's face.

"He was out with a couple of the hands, trying to warn people downstream."

It would be another three hours before Ben had his family and crew all accounted for. He looked around at the exhausted, filthy men as they settled to sleep on the ground. A dark thought came to mind before sleep claimed him.

 _Many are the hearts that are weary tonight._


	36. Chapter 36

**You shouldn't mess with me. I'll ruin everything you** **are.**

 _China Doll_ by David Bowie, Iggy Pop

"You shouldn't mess with me. I'll ruin everything you are."

The words had been spoken over an hour ago and yet she couldn't stop herself repeating them over and over in her thoughts. Jean's mother had called her every bitter and spiteful name under the sun and somehow she had finally managed to shrug them off and begin her life over. The spectre of the past had never quite disappeared, but she had managed to put a leash on it and keep it under control.

Well … somewhat under control.

But this night something was very different. Ben Cartwright was not Jean de Marigny. He was an honourable man who did not belong in New Orleans with its seedy underside and veneer of respectability that so callously glossed over a thousand sins. He did not deserve to be sullied by her past or dragged down by her reputation.

And yet she could not resist. His voice sent chills up her spine and she found herself searching the crowded room for his presence. She should have been running from it and he should have been shunning her. She had fled outside for some air as the room had begun to close in on her. She had lived all her life in the heat of the city and it had never bothered her before.

"There you are."

Marie heard the words and knew without turning that it was him. She should send him away. She knew how to use her most cutting words to shred a man to pieces, having done it many times before.

"I was worried I had upset you."

The voice did nothing to settle her stomach and she grasped at the porch railing as if it were some kind of lifeline.

"I'm sorry for my insensitivity. Where I come from, speech is more … forthright."

Marie slowly turned to see him watching her. "You mean more honest."

Ben had the grace to look down at his boots as he considered her words. He hated the games that the elite and powerful of New Orleans played. He struggled to remind himself that he was an outsider who needed to sell his furs and return to his boys. He needed to play the game.

Marie studied his hands as Ben twisted the rim of his hat through his fingers. He seemed ill at ease in the finery and yet it suited him so well. They were working hands, calloused from many years of hard physical labour. The same kind of labour that Jean would have done. She tried to envisage him in a cowboy's clothing rather than his clothes he had once worn. The image caught her by surprise and she gasped.

Ben looked up and reached towards her.

"Are you all right?"

"I am fine, monsieur. Tell me something."

"Anything."

"Was Jean … did he find what he was looking for in the West?"

"I believe so."

Marie looked out over the garden below. Could it be possible?


	37. Chapter 37

**God only knows what I'd be without you.**

 _God Only Knows_ by Brian Wilson, Tony Asher

Candy pulled his hat from his head with one hand and wiped a filthy piece of cloth across his face before shoving it back into his pocket. Not that it would make much difference as the sweat would soon be running down into his eyes again. The heat was relentless, but so was Joe. The man had barely stopped for a drink all morning and Candy knew his hands had to be hurting underneath those black leather gloves of his. It wasn't all that long ago that they had been swathed in bandages and Hop Sing's odd smelling ointments. Candy shrugged as he watched his friend at work. He didn't know how long it would take for Joe to work his way clear of the thundercloud that hung over him, but what he did know was that he would be there when the rain burst forth and the cloud finally dissipated. He glanced up into the cloudless blue sky and a smile crossed his face. A thunderstorm would be very welcome right about now.

Candy picked up his sledgehammer and began to swing once more at the heavy wooden post. It slowly sunk its roots into the baked ground below and he watched with satisfaction as the notch he had marked earlier inched below the soil line. He halted his final swing and lowered the hammer to the ground. Further down the fence line, he could see that Joe had two more similar posts standing straight and true. If nothing else, Joe's anger was getting them through their work at a faster pace than they were used to.

Suddenly he felt, rather than saw, Joe sway sideways and he raced across the space between them in time to catch his friend before he fell. Joe's face was flushed and beads of sweat rolled down from under the curls that had greyed even more in recent months.

"Easy, buddy." Candy propped Joe against a tree before hurrying over to grab a water canteen. He pulled the same sweat-soaked cloth from his pocket and poured water over it. Joe's eyes were drooping closed as Candy wiped the cloth over his face.

"I'm sorry," Joe mumbled as Candy poured fresh water onto the cloth and then dribbled water into his mouth.

"What for?"

"Everything!"

Candy settled back on his haunches as he continued trying to cool his friend.

"That's a big list."

Joe reached a hand for the canteen and took a long draw of water before fixing Candy with a stare.

"Why are you still here?"

"Ahh … I work here."

"Not what I mean. You said you could leave anytime. Pa agreed when you signed on. Why're you still here?"

Candy felt a joke rise to his lips, but one look at Joe's face killed it.

"You're my family. Only one I've got. God only knows what I'd be without you."

"Same here. It would have been so easy to just … let go."

Candy could have sworn it was raining.


	38. Chapter 38

**I cheated myself. Like I knew I would.**

 _I'm No Good_ by Amy Winehouse.

The barkeep watched as the game of poker seemed to increase in intensity. He kept polishing glasses as if he wasn't really concerned, but he had already subtly edged closer to where he had a loaded shotgun stashed under the counter. In a town with only one lawman around, it paid to have back up available if trouble erupted. He wasn't above throwing a punch or two if he needed to, but usually the shotgun was enough of a deterrent.

Usually.

He glanced up, noting the two recent holes in the plaster ceiling and shook his head at the memory of the two drunkards who had refused to listen when told politely to leave the premises. Of course, he would have preferred to unload both barrels in their obnoxious hides as they had thrown drunken taunts at him, but he had enough self-control to stop himself.

Just.

The sheriff was a good man, but even he would have had a hard time defending that one. Harris looked across again at the group at the far table and shook his head. That new fella had something of an air of trouble about him. He'd been shuffling those cards all afternoon and taking on several of his best customers at round after round of poker.

He was young and cocky. It had initially appeared to Harris that this young pup either didn't know how to play poker well or was just drawing in his prey. Either approach could be dangerous and he kept a close eye on the game. Suddenly a shout was followed closely by the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. Both players were on their feet and Harris grasped at the shotgun almost automatically.

The young fella had his pistol pointed squarely at the other player's chest. Harris knew Andy wasn't above a little sleight of hand and he rounded the bar as Andy pointed angrily at the stranger.

"You cheated! You didn't have no ace of spades!"

The young fella just stared right back, calmly assured by his pistol still aimed at Andy's chest before he'd been quick enough to draw his own weapon.

"And how would you know that?"

Andy sputtered in fury as he pointed at his friends at the table.

"They know too! You didn't have no ace!"

The two friends sat on either side, uncertain of just how to respond. It wasn't like Andy hadn't stashed a card or two up a sleeve before, but this time they were three against one and the one was a stranger. A stranger holding a gun on them.

When he looked back later and relayed the story to Sheriff Wilson, Harris couldn't quite explain how he'd gotten that young fella to back down with nothing more than a curse before walking away. He'd been certain Andy was going to end up with a hole in him.

"I never cheated you!"

"I cheated myself. Like I knew I would," Clay muttered as he walked towards the door.


	39. Chapter 39

**No, it isn't very pretty what a town without pity can do.**

 _A Town Without Pity_ by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington

"Pa."

Ben looked up from his paperwork at the sound of Joe's voice. He was supposed to be finishing the schoolwork he had conveniently forgotten about the week before. Now he was spending his Saturday afternoon doing what he should have done already. Ben looked at the boy, trying not to allow his irritation show. The note home from his teacher had explained that Joe had chosen to ignore the assignment. It wasn't like Little Joe hated school as much as Hoss had, but he certainly didn't put in any effort with some tasks beyond the bare minimum. It still amazed him sometimes just how different his three sons were.

"Pa?"

Ben startled to realised he hadn't responded and he looked again to see Joe staring at him.

"Yes, Son."

"Pa … did you … I mean …"

"Joseph, I am busy with finishing these contract calculations and you have work to do, young man."

Joe swallowed and looked down at his page with barely a dozen words.

Something in his son's posture alerted Ben that this wasn't just a timewasting attempt and he started over.

"What did you want to know?"

Joe looked up again and Ben was surprised at the look on his face.

"Joe?"

"Pa, did you ever think about stopping someplace before you got to … well before you found the Ponderosa?"

Ben almost smiled at the wording as he hadn't just found the place they all called home. He had carved it out of the wilderness, but Joe was too young to have any other memory besides what they all enjoyed now.

"A few times." Ben found himself transported to a small town with a general store tended by a lady with a pretty face and a lilting voice. He'd have stayed put there if she had insisted on it and built a home for his family in a different place.

"Why didn't you stay? Didn't you get sick of movin' all the time?"

"No." Ben paused as he recalled his introduction to that same town. "It isn't very pretty what a town without pity can do."

"Huh?"

Ben looked up to see Joe's puzzled expression. He decided he needed to shift the focus of the conversation back where it belonged. Namely, why was his son not doing his assignment as expected?

"Joseph, what exactly are you meant to be writing about?"

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he frowned again at the almost blank paper.

"We're s'posed to write about where our family comes from and how they came to live here."

"So what's the problem?"

"I was just thinkin' that you and Adam took years just to get here. If you woulda went a different way … or got lost … you would never have … I wouldn't … "

Ben quickly made his way over towards his son. He hooked a thumb under his chin and lifted his small face upward.

"Joseph, I came exactly the right way to get here."


	40. Chapter 40

**Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.**

 _Beer for My Horses_ by Scott Emerich/Toby Keith **  
**

Adam sat with a boot propped up on the edge of the nearest chair and took another sip of the lukewarm beer. It was flat as well, but at least it was wet. It was the only positive thing he could say about it as he took another mouthful. He'd flipped with Joe as to who was going to stable the horses and who would order the cold beers, but it seemed they had both lost. He knew that Joe should be coming along soon enough and Adam had a fair idea what his little brother was going to say about the sad state of the town's only saloon and its even sadder excuse for a beer.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers and the next watering hole was well over forty miles away. Neither of them had had the energy to press on and a cold beer and a soft bed had sounded good. Adam took another sip of beer as he glanced up the stairs. Hopefully, the beds might be a better deal than the beer, but he wasn't going to bet on that one either.

He looked towards the batwing doors and wondered what was taking Joe so long. It had been a blistering hot day and the horses were both looking the worse for wear. Adam smiled to himself as he could see Joe giving instructions to the livery owner about what his horse needed. Sometimes he wondered who was more spoiled – Joe or Cochise?

Finally his younger brother wandered through the door, hat in hand and wiping at his reddened face with a dusty bandana. Adam waved him over and Joe pushed around a couple of drunken patrons to slide into the chair opposite. He grasped at the beer his brother had waiting for him and took a long gulp. Adam almost laughed at the sour face his brother pulled as he raised his own half-empty glass.

"It's wet."

Joe licked at his lips and frowned at the glass.

"About all I can say for it."

Before Adam could comment further, three men pushed through the doors and one of them pounded on the bar. The barkeep came sauntering over towards them.

"Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses."

Joe looked at Adam as the trio leaned on the bar.

"Say what?" The barkeep held a glass in one hand and the cloth he'd been using to wipe it was now motionless in the other.

"Well I've tasted your beer and it ain't fit for people to drink. Maybe our horses would like it instead."

The barkeep stared at the obvious leader of the group before slowly cracking a grin. He draped the towel over his shoulder as he reached under the bar and grasped a bottle of whiskey.

Joe snickered at the comment as his brother just smiled at him.

Adam nodded and took another gulp of his beer.

"Can't argue with that, I guess."

"Sure you can. Everybody knows that horses prefer coffee!"


End file.
